


Playing with Fire

by ChillieBean



Series: Suit Up! [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, porn with very loose plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 06:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18424554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillieBean/pseuds/ChillieBean
Summary: Sombra thinks she's being clever after discovering a two-hour gap in Maximilien's schedule.Little did she know that when you play with fire, you get burned.





	1. Fire

**Author's Note:**

> A product of my unyielding thirst for both Moira and Maximilien, and twitter shitposting. I'm sure this'll appeal to like one person (looking at you, Q) but otherwise, if you're curious, do continue on. 
> 
> I'm probably shooting myself in the foot posting this before Storm Rising but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“So… What's up with Max?”

“You're going to have to be more specific,” Moira says dismissively, looking at the labels of various blood samples. She selects some, cross-checking them with a list before putting them in an insulated box full of ice.

Sombra leans in closer to Moira. “Between one and three p.m. every Wednesday,” she says, voice hushed, “Max has a gap in his diary.”

“He probably has an off-site lunch meeting.”

“Thing is, he's not. He doesn't leave his office.”

“Meeting in his office, then.”

“He's not _in_ his office.”

Moira picks up a sample then stops, placing it down and sideways glancing at Sombra. “You _just_ said he _doesn't_ leave his office.”

“I _know_ ,” Sombra replies, sitting up and practically vibrating with excitement. “But,” she says, bringing her voice down lower, “I tried knocking on his door last week and there was no answer. I broke in, and he wasn't there.”

“You _shouldn't_ have done that,” Moira says with disdain, turning her attention back to her samples. She slides the box across the workbench and wheels her chair away from Sombra. “And let me guess. You know he returns at three because you hacked into his computer and looked at his appointments.”

“You _know_ I'm not allowed to do that,” Sombra says, a level of amusement tinges her words despite trying to keep it under wraps. She hacked into his schedule two weeks ago when she realised there was a pattern to Max’s behaviour.

Moira gives her a glance from the corner of her eye. “And why do you think _I_ would know what he does in that time?”

“Because everyone else I've asked doesn't know either.”

“Perhaps it's simply none of your business, then.”

 _Everything is my business_ , Sombra thinks to herself, catching it before saying it aloud to Moira. Moira has, very publically, let the council know that she does _not_ want Sombra here, that shady hacks are beneath Talon, that Sombra's attitude is reckless, and that she's a liability.

Keeping her anger in check, because Moira can, quite frankly, go fuck herself, Sombra shrugs. She turns and leans against the benchtop, resting on her elbows. “Maybe.”

Moira tsks, shaking her head. “Whatever it is you're planning, I want no part in it.”

“Aww, come on, don't you want to have a _little_ bit of fun?”

“I have work to do,” Moira replies, frustration drowning her words as she picks up the rack containing the remaining samples and stands. “Please _don't_ tell me what you find.” She heads to the freezer, opening a box and putting the samples inside.

“You're not curious?”

“No.”

“You really _are_ no fun,” Sombra replies, standing at full height. “At least Amé shows _some_ curiosity.”

“Then go and conspire with her,” Moira says, disinterested as she returns to her workbench.

Sombra hums as Moira sets up her work area with equipment Sombra can’t even name. “I thought you were a scientist,” she says with a grin, “that you were excited by and curious of the unknown.”

Moira scowls at her, pointing to the door with a long finger. “Out.”

“All right, all right,” Sombra replies, laughing. She turns, walking out of Moira's lab.

Moira might have been unhelpful, but Sombra loves getting under her skin every moment she can.

In the meantime, she’s not going to take her eyes off Max. She’ll finally see what he’s up to in his empty two-hour block later today.

 

* * *

 

Finding Max is easy.

He wears the _worst_ cologne Sombra’s ever smelled. It’s cheap, frankly _stinks_ , and you can smell him from a mile away. He _clearly_ makes enough money to purchase tailored suits, surely he has the money to buy something that doesn’t smell like garbage baking under the midday sun.

After spending the morning in a meeting with Akande, Max went back to his office. He left his door open, which made sitting in the recreation room easy—sitting in the right spot, she has constant eyes on his office.

At 12:58 p.m., Max finally makes a move. He leaves his office, closing and locking the door behind him which is something that surprises Sombra because she knows from the last few that he normally doesn't. She follows him in any case, and curiously he heads past the elevator and to the stairwell, tapping his card against the reader.

“What are you up to,” Sombra mutters to herself from around a corner. She lets the door close before approaching it, giving it a moment before tapping her card to the reader and cautiously opening it. An echo carries from above her as the door to the roof closes, and she steps in the stairwell.

What the _hell_ is Max doing on the roof? Does he spend all two hours up there? What reason would he have? If it’s a meeting, he could do it in his office. Same with a business call. There is literally _nothing_ he could be doing up there.

Whatever the reason, Sombra follows, making sure her steps are silent. She taps her card to the reader. It blinks red.

“What the…” she breathes, trying again, and is met with blinking red again. That’s new—she’s never been locked out of the roof before. Granted she’s only been up here a handful of times, and most recently was a year ago when Moira set up her greenhouse, but still, this is new.

Doesn’t mean it’ll stop her, though. She hacks into the interface before taking her next breath, and the door unlocks. She opens it slowly, cautiously, peeking through and not seeing anything out of the ordinary. She steps out onto the roof, the warm midday sun bears down. Taking a step out from the door, she peeks around the corner and sees a small garden—a couple of potted plants, a hanging flower wall—

She pulls back when Max enters her field of view. When it's apparent he didn't see her, she gives it a moment before peeking around the corner again. He’s got his back towards her, and she takes the moment to assess the rest of the garden. There’s an undercover area which contains what looks like a small mahogany bar. There is a coat stand beside it, and two sun loungers which are currently under the sun, a low table between them.

Sombra’s attention is drawn to Max when he approaches the coat rack. He takes off his jacket, hanging it on the rack. His vest is next, his tie.

“I knew you were weird,” she whispers as he hangs up his shirt, expecting him to go fully naked because this is honestly where it’s headed. But he stops there, approaches the sunlounger, and sits on it before lying down.

In what reality would Max need to lie down in the sun? Is he napping? When he presses his chest, revealing two small solar panels, it leaves her more confused than before.

Solar powered omnics are back-alley, illegal productions. Sombra thought she knew exactly where Max came from. She dug into his past to know everything about him, like she did with every single councilmember of Talon. His records state was omnium produced twenty-five years ago. He found a passion in numbers, worked as an accountant while setting up his own businesses, moving up the ranks, gaining the attention of Talon with how quickly he can get things done, and ultimately joining when he realises his vision for the world aligned with theirs.  

He has clearly altered his appearance from what he _was_. _No one_ would suspect just by looking at him, at his exoskeleton, that he’s not omnium produced. There isn't a scratch on him, no signs of recycled metal used.

Deciding that digging deeper in his past is more important than watching him sunbathe, Sombra turns, but stops when she hears a small thud, followed by the clack of heels. She knows from earlier that those footsteps aren’t Max’s, so she peers around the corner again and her heart leaps into her throat.

“You _did_ know,” Sombra murmurs, watching as Moira stands at the bar. She sets two glasses on the countertop, pouring whiskey in one, oil in the other. She walks them to the table between the two sunloungers before unbuttoning her shirt. “Oh god.”

Sombra watches in mild horror as Moira drapes her shirt on the back of the sunlounger. When Moira moves to unclasp her bra, Sombra knows she should walk away, that she should leave before she’s caught, but Moira’s not exactly one to show flesh, and her purple, scarred skin covers her entire arm and shoulder, and over the right side of her chest.

Now with her tits out, Moira hangs her bra with her shirt and sits. She gives Max a long glance before picking up her drink and taking a sip. Why the hell hasn’t Max said anything? Is this a usual thing? Oh fuck, are they _fucking_?

Moira sets the glass down and lies back, and that’s Sombra's cue to leave.

“Did you have something to ask, Sombra?” Moira calls out, amusement thick on her voice.

 _Fuck_ , Sombra mouths, squeezing her eyes shut. She could ignore Moira, but she and Max will just hunt her down. She _could_ leave Talon completely. It’s not like she does much for them these days.

“Oh, don’t get shy on us now,” Moira teases.

Opening her eyes and taking a breath, Sombra steps out from the corner.

“There you are,” Moira says, grinning.

“Hey,” Sombra replies weakly, trying to look anywhere that isn’t Moira’s or Max’s chests. Max actually hasn’t moved, isn’t even looking in her direction. Moira though, she hasn’t taken her eyes off her. “I’m sure it can wait,” Sombra lies, hoping it’s enough for Moira to send her on her way.

“Nonsense,” Moira replies. “Go on, help yourself,” she says, gesturing to the bar with the wave of her hand. “We have tequila.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Pull up a chair then. Let’s talk, it has been a while since we had a chat.”

Sombra takes a step back. “I really should—”

“But you just got here,” Moira says, teasingly. She finally takes her eyes off Sombra, just to glance at the sky. “The sun is lovely this afternoon. Nice and warm on my skin.”

Max hums from beside her, his first response to this entire situation.

“Come,” Moira says, sitting up and patting the sunlounger. “Join us.”

Sombra has to stop herself from wretching at the thought of exposing _any_ skin with Moira present. Sombra never saw her as a sexual being—she didn't _want_ to think of Moira having sex—she vehemently shakes her head to  _stop_ from thinking about any of that. 

“No, really," Sombra says, taking another step back. "I have to check in with Reaper—”

“That timing is a little bit of a shame,” Moira says with a sigh, like she is genuinely disappointed with the situation. “Well then, we best not keep him waiting.”

Sombra nods, and turns.

“You don’t have to be so shy next time, Olivia.”

A shiver cascades down Sombra's spine, and it takes all her willpower not to run. That’s three people now who know her name. She’s getting sloppy.

“We won’t bite,” Moira finishes, laughing.

Sombra balls her hands into fists and opens the stairwell door. She knows Moira’s threat for what it is. She knows if what she saw on this roof gets uttered to anyone, if it goes back to Moira or Max, her former life will be exposed. Her family—her brothers and sisters who were orphaned with her—will be exposed.

She cannot have that.

One thing she learned today is that Max isn’t who he says he is. Given that Max didn’t react to Moira undressing in front of him, they _must_ be a thing. _If_ they try to bring her down, she needs to arm herself with information—dirt on Moira. Max’s true history.

She’ll fight fire with fire _when_ it comes to it.


	2. Truly Nefarious

“Are you done playing with your food?”

Moira hums, taking a sip of whiskey. “Oh, come on now, she deserved it for snooping around.”

“Now she knows our secret.”

“That we’re sleeping together?" Moira huffs a laugh. "We're two consenting adults engaging in casual sex. Hardly information worth worrying about.”

Maximilien looks at her. “She is smart.”

“That’s why we hired her in the first place,” Moira says with a shrug. “She knows that we’re sleeping together, and now she knows that you’re more than meets the eye.”

“ _Something_ I would have liked to have avoided," Maximilien replies dryly, looking away. "I did not need to come up here today.”

“She would have found out one way or another,” Moira says dismissively. “Besides, now she will stop buzzing around my laboratory looking for gossip.”

“I’m glad that _I_ have helped _you_ by revealing something so personal about myself.”

“You worry too much,” Moira says coyly. “ _We_ know more. _We_ can take her out, her 'family' with a single order if we wanted. We can do more damage to her then she can to us.”

Maximilien glances at her. “Has anyone told you that you are truly nefarious?”

“Well,” Moira replies with a smirk, “isn’t that the nicest compliment anyone could ever give?”

Maximilien simply hums, looking back at the sky, and Moira finishes the last of her whiskey. She sets the glass down and grabs her shirt, putting it on. If she spends any longer in this sun her unprotected skin will surely burn. Not bothering to button it up given her back will be in the sun, she stands and climbs onto on Maximilien’s lap.

Maximilien meets her gaze. “Not now.”

“If you’re afraid someone will see us,” Moira smirks slyly, “don’t. She won’t risk coming back up here.”

“It’s not her I’m worried about.”

“No one else knows we’re up here.” Moira rolls her hips, grinding in Maximilien’s lap. “No one else knows this exists. Besides, let’s not pretend that they’re not all fucking each other.”

There is a long pause. Moira doesn’t stop, she looks Maximilien in the eye as he stares back at her. When Maximilien’s hands settle on her hips, though, Moira knows she has him. She increases her speed and grinds down harder when he pushes and pulls a little more forcefully.  

She bites her lip when she feels him, just a little bit off his normal size but enough to rub against it and get off on the friction. When she can’t take any more of this teasing, with her body screaming for more, she climbs off him, kicks off her boots and drops her pants and underwear.

He undoes his slacks, pulling them down to his thighs, and slowly extends the rest of his penis. He really does know how to put on a good show, the tease that he is. It takes so much restraint to keep from touching herself as he traces a finger up his length.

Climbing back on him, she takes his cock in her hand, teasing her entrance first for the lubrication before rubbing it against her clit. She moans when the vibrations start up.

“I see you are throwing discretion out of the window,” Maximilien says, squeezing her thighs.

“Fuck them all,” Moira replies, voice breathy. “I want to celebrate this win.” She moans again, longer, louder when Maximilien increases the strength of the vibrations.

“You truly do have no restraint,” Maximilien says.

Moira knows this is wholly intentional. Despite hearing the pitch change in his voice because he is getting off on this too, and despite wanting to argue her point, that she is reacting because he is _making_ her moan, she cannot get any words to leave her mouth.

Instead, she stands on her knees, lines him at her entrance and sinks down slowly. She takes a shaky breath when she’s in his lap again, taking the moment to enjoy him, his vibrations. When she rolls her hips, she pulls Maximilien’s hands onto her breasts.

She smirks when he moans. It’s a quiet little thing, she would miss it if it weren't for the fact she was listening out for it. He squeezes her breasts tight, his head tilts back—another thing she looks out for.

“I love it when you do that,” she murmurs. “I love that you can feel me.”

“It is only fair that I feel orgasm too,” Maximilien murmurs. “Costly, but worth it.”

Moira moans, cupping her hands over his. She’s slept with many omnics in her time and there’s something about the ones who aren’t programmed to feel in this same way that’s a bit of a drag. That is what’s made sex with Maximilien so intoxicating—the fact that he can feel everything, that he can feel arousal in response to external stimuli prior to any physical contact.

“Are you close,” Moira asks, voice breathy as she sits on the precipice. Maximilien squeezes a little harder, he nods subtly. “Good, come for me,” she whispers. She stops thrusting, letting him take over. The vibrations increase, his cock thrusts in and out.

Then, his hand drops, he presses his thumb against her clit and rubs. She moans as her toes curl, wrapping her hand around his wrist and keeping him in place.

The vibrations fade as she comes down from her high, until eventually it eventually stops. She opens her eyes, meeting his gaze and takes a deep breath. Wordlessly, she climbs off him and pulls on her underwear. She walks to the coat rack, tugging his pocket square from his jacket and dropping it on his lap when she returns.

“This is _not_ what it is for,” he says, picking it up.

Moira merely shrugs, picking up her slacks and sliding them on. As she pulls on her boots, Maximilien caves, wiping himself down, and Moira cannot help but smirk at the pained groan he gives. She buttons her shirt, opting to spend the rest of the day braless because, honestly, while she hates the damn thing, she’s still riding the high of the encounter with Sombra. Restraint can be damned.

“Not only am I going to smell like you for the rest of the day, but now I have to go on with the knowledge that you are not wearing a bra?”

Moira chuckles, opting to leave the top two buttons undone because it'll make him squirm. She picks up her bra and tosses it to him. “I’ll come and get it at the end of the day.” Winking at him before turning away, Moira imagines being bent over his desk as he fucks her hard and fast once everyone’s gone.

She quivers—it is going to be a _long_ afternoon.

**Author's Note:**

> This solar panel theory was before the lore book came out and said that 'omnic energy' was a thing (I don't have the book so I have NO IDEA what that means, or if it even powers them). And honestly, they're probably not powered by solar. So I tweaked it a little, gave Maximilien something to hide. And I really really love 'come from nothing' stories. 
> 
> And ah... I'll admit I never really gave much thought to omnic fucking or omnic dicks before this, so apologies if this is quite vanilla compared to what else might be out there. 
> 
> If this interested you, you can see more on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BeanChillie)


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